5 Times Hazel and Isaac Hugged
by shadow-lupine
Summary: Post TFiOS. 5 Times Hazel and Isaac Hugged and the one time they couldn't. AKA 5 times in which they knew. Updated about as regularly as I update everything else. Not shippy
1. Chapter 1

5 Times Hazel and Isaac Hugged and the one time they couldn't. AKA 5 times in which they knew.

A/N: Written in snapshots to take my mind off the horrible ordeal that is doing a BA in English. Also: sorry for not updating WYWF. Also: Hi John.

1. Two Months after the funeral of Augustus Waters.

I was sitting on the couch of Isaacs's house playing another round of Blind People Video Games when he blurted it out. His house had become almost a vacation house to me on the occasions that I needed to get away from my 'normal' life. I was getting good at killing these virtual, invisible crooks and had just decapitated the leader with some well enunciated words when Isaac turned his two blind eyes to me and proclaimed that it was the _Anniversary that Never_ _Was_ between Monica and Isaac.

I knew mom always got a kick out of celebrating the little holidays, but I didn't think Isaac would appreciate celebrating this one. I looked at him closely. It wasn't unusual for him to be unsmiling these days, but his face seemed set in a way that suggested he wasn't so much as not smiling as incapable of doing so. The silence was getting to me, so I just said the first true thing that came into my mind.

"Sucks."

His eyebrows rose a fraction. "I know" he responded and swallowed. "We even had a word."

I thought back to them pressed against the church, muttering their sacred word between kisses.

"I know" I mirrored.

"It was dumb."

"Yeah, I remember thinking that too. Then I got one."

"I know. It's funny how we thought we could define something so…." He gestured clumsily, his hand inches from sweeping against my shoulder. "…vast in one simple word, a selection of 26 letters." He wasn't facing towards me, but rather at the pale grey carpet. I gave half a sigh, it was usually as much as I could manage on a good day. Not because I was angry or sad or anything, just as a reflex of sorts, a way to keep the conversation going, so that he could still speak while I thought of what to say. He didn't add to it though.

"Words are… simple. Relationships aren't. You can define words." I said finally.

"Yeah. It's called a dictionary."

"I know."

His face melted, just a little bit. He nodded his head slightly but didn't add anything. I fiddled with my cannula. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but I still felt it pressing between us.

"Sorry, I'm gonna go. Tired."

Isaac closed his eyes but his face softened more and swivelled to face me on his long neck. He gave me what was almost a smile. "I know."

He couldn't show me to the door, so it had become my habit to lay a hand on his shoulder before leaving. Compulsively I reached for the opposite one, still sitting, so that my arm was around his back and my chin pressed briefly into his shoulder before I let go.


	2. Chapter 2

5 Times Hazel and Augustus Hugged.

A/N: As warned, sporadic updates are sporadic. But I'm on holiday now, so maybe less so.

The Second Time:

Mum had been suggesting it for ages. Support group. I argued for Pity Points, moaning about how I was getting worse and how my fragile sense of self might break with the dramatic outpouring of emotions that going back there would create from all the support and group-ness.

Mum was not buying any of it so, once again, I was back in the old cross shaped church.

It was the first time I had been back since Augustus. It made me feel weird. Not because I expected him to be down there, once again slumped aggressively in the plastic chair, or sitting uncomfortably in his wheelchair, watching Isaac eulogize, but because of all the _looks_ I was getting. You know things are bad when _dying children_ are giving you the sympathetic eye.

I stood there for a while, with my cart waiting patiently by my side, deciding if I should take the elevator. I could probably make it… Okay, I could possibly make it down the stairs. It's one thing to take the elevator; it's another thing to _choose_ it of your own free will.

Thankfully a new girl, arrived. She was wheelchair bound and looked kinda nervous. I knew the look of an over rushed mother and offered to accompany her down. I was okay with taking the metal contraption on the grounds of doing a good deed. The mother gave a relieved smile and introduced us. June, ten years old, thyroid. I formed a conversation on the subject of our shared life taking disease as we travelled down.

Support group looked unsurprisingly normal. I swallowed. Of course I couldn't just slink in unnoticed. Not least because Patrick was already part way through his ball speech. He gave me a look as I made my way over to a spare seat next to Isaac and he continued when I'd manage to sit.

You could be so lucky! I sighed. So did Isaac. I swallowed and blinked a few times.

The typical routine followed. Hazel. Seventeen. Thyroid and mets in my lungs. I'm okay.

If I had proper lungs, that last bit might've been a loud projection. Instead it just took my breath a bit further away. I made a show of it in order to fend off any questions.

I tried to zone out. Staring at the floor I pretended I was at home on my bed. I was okay, mostly. Except for when I wasn't. That's not me being purposefully obtuse, it's just how things are. Heath, money, love. All okay until, suddenly, they're not.

And I was doing okay. I was almost through and preparing to congratulate myself on my excellent composure and poise until Lydia mentioned my name.

"I never knew Augustus well, but he always seemed… great. Strong. Like a leader, almost. Like Hazel he just remained so strong. They really were two of a kind. Hazel is already the strongest person I know, but now she's like… a goddess or a hero. She keeps soldering on and I admire that. I aspire to be like her".

For some reason, this inspired a ragged round of applause. I imagined myself, olive wreath on my puffy hair, shield and sword in my hands. Armour of bright, shining bronze chased with a glorious silver design on my body, weighing down my chest, growing tighter and tighter with each breath I failed to make.

I could hardly breathe.

A fumbling hand searched for mine. I gripped it and tried to control my erratic body.

"Want to get out of here?" Isaac asked quietly. I made a noise in assent and walked us over to the elevators, calling out a weak apology. I made it outside before I collapsed against the same wall that had witnessed the love between Isaac and Monica all those months ago. I dragged Isaac down with me awkwardly and he hit the ground a bit harder than we both expected. I was kinda crying when he let out a small noise of surprise at his sudden meeting with the ground.

It wasn't that Lydia had mentioned Augustus. That was fine. It was just… something. Something about the irony of going back down into the 'literal' heart of Jesus. Something about narratives and circles and the way that breathing was getting harder. Something that made me not okay.

"You know, this blind thing is kind of like being a dog. Sit, Isaac. Stay. Lie down."

"Roll over?" I suggested.

He declined the offer.

"What was said back there was pretty shitty". He pulled a face. "She should have left him out of it. They should all just… leave it alone."

"I know." I said tiredly. "But they're just trying to help".

He sighed. "I know."

There was a silence between us. There usually was, but it was comfortable, as though we had perpetually finished a pleasant and fulfilling conversation. That's what I liked about Isaac.

"I wish…" I started to form a thought and then realised how stupid it sounded. "I wish I had some basketball trophies right now". Isaac laughed.

"Nah, for this you need more than basketball trophies. Piano Recital participation awards at the least."

"MTV movie awards?" I offered.

"Please, Golden Globes. "

"Oscars."

"Nobel Peace Prizes. I win. Calling blind man perks here."

I snorted. "Do people actually wear those? Because I don't see how beating up some old dude is going to make me feel better."

"Have you tried it? You never know."

Mum pulled up. I struggled to my feet and verbally offered my hand to Isaac, who let me pull him up with help from the wall. His mum had pulled up to so I lead him to the car, opening the passenger's side door. He reached up and gave me a clumsy hug, narrowly avoiding grazing my face. I lightly returned the gesture before his mum came round to our side to help him in.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Um, sorry. I'm probably not going to do an imperial affliction and just leave it unfinished.

Also: Please take your sense of time and destroy it. I'm about as good with time as John is.

* * *

Traditions were still stupid, I decided as I counted down the days until New Years. Everyone else was out drinking and partying and kissing at midnight when I could barely make it to 8 pm on a good day.

As such, with the backing of my mother, Isaac, and Kaitlyn who had declared my idea splendid and made her time much more profitable, I was throwing a morning New Years, with noon celebrated instead of midnight.

"After all" I said, as I explained to my dad, "what is the calendar but a social construct? Who knows really when the exact second that the Earth has made one full rotation around the sun?"

"Aren't New Years festivities just social constructions too? Who's to say that we can't celebrate it at noon instead?" My dad had caught on quickly to the falseness of our traditions after my war on scrambled eggs. I was proud.

The five of us sat around the table, which was, for once, adequately full, and set into a brunch. It was nothing special, although I had subtly requested foods from all times of day. I didn't really eat much though, much to the chagrin of my mum. But what I did eat didn't taste like dirt in my mouth, as it had six months earlier. I was getting thinner by the day, but that was as per course.

When we had finished our combined meal, we shifted into the living room. I had kind of wanted to be outside for this, but mum had deemed it too cold. Cold tended to make me tired, too.

So we huddled around, making small talk. I introduced Isaac as well as I could verbally to America's Next Top Model. It started out serious, but it soon turned silly.

"Hazel, I refuse to believe that this particular fine lady is seven feet tall with blonde hair and wearing nothing but a poncho made of bow ties."

"Oh but she really is" came Kaitlyn's earnest reply "she's standing beside a four foot brunet wearing a period gown".

"I thought there were height restrictions on models. Don't you have to be, like six foot at least?"

"Four foot two brunette?"

We all laughed. It was nice to have all of my favourite people in a room watching a show about models. We carried on, describing more and more ridiculous models wearing various extinct animals until the alarm on my dad's watch went off.

"One more minute!" He announced to the room at large. He kinda started crying a little, but it was the happy crying so it was okay. I kinda felt like joining in too.

Isaac squeezed my arm "one year gone. Are you ready?"

I thought about that for a moment. It wasn't as if the year had _gone_, not really. I believed that time was a gain, not a loss. You gain years, not lose them.

I was about to tell him as much when my dad started counting down.

"Five"

"Four" we all joined in.

"Three"

"Two"

"One!"

"Happy New Year" I announced, reaching beside me to give Kaitlyn a hug and she kissed me on the cheek. I leaned the other way and hugged Isaac (who did not), before giving my had to my mum so that she could pull me up to aid the hug which my dad inevitably joined.


End file.
